
THE 

VENDO 



DREAMS 







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THE ANCIENT OF DAYS 



THE 

VENDOR OF 
DREAMS 



JULIA H. COFFIN 



[lil'-'iiW"""" 



ILLUSTRATIONS BY 

HASKELL COFFIN 

DECORATIONS BY 

JOHN O'NEILL 



NEW YORK 

DODD, MEAD, AND COMPANY 

1917 






Copyright, 19171 

BY 

JULIA H. COFFIN 



v 

SEP II 1917 



5>CLA476004 



<&^ 



DEDICATION 

TO 
THE LORDS OF SPLENDOR 

AND THE 

LIGHT-BRINGERS 

OF 

ALL AGES 






Who'll buy my wares? 

Child of the Immortals 

The Quest 

The Blessed and the Damned 

The Plaint of the Pilgrim Soul 

The Woman, alone ! always alone i 

The Philosopher-Sage 

The Cry of the Unborn Souls 

The Man of Science 

The Seed, the Blossom, and the Fruit 



" WHO'LL BUY MY WARES?" 



"WHO'LL BUY MY WARES?" 

Along the main street of a great city: 
a city in the East, from whence the sun 
sends his informing rays to all Being; there 
slowly crept an old, old man. 

Hoary with age, he tremblingly drove 
before him a small ass, who was surely 
the great-grandfather of all the asses, so 
overweighted did he seem with wisdom and 
with years. Depending from either side 
of the small saddle upon his back were great 
jars, inflated water-skins and huge bundles. 

So overladen was he that only his head 
with its pendant ears, and his hindquarters 
could be seen. His master guided his ways 
by a small rod with which he occasionally 
touched the faithful beast, more as an indi- 
cation as to the course he was to take than 
from an assumption of authority; for be- 
tween this master and slave there seemed 
to be a most perfect understanding. 

The old man himself might have been 
anywhere from one hundred to five hundred 
years of age. He seemed to have reached 
the limit of the cycle of humanity, and 
since then to have remained in a crystal- 
lized state. His face appeared to be car- 
ven out of yellow ivory, every wrinkle be- 
15 



Ufa Vmch/of$)fecmd 

ing as immovable and fixed as fate; the 
only living thing about him was his eyes, 
which burned into your being with a fiery 
intensity, impossible to be endured for long. 

Around his head was folded a worn yellow 
turban, and his robe, once white, but now 
with the accumulated dust of years upon 
it, clung closely to his shrunken form. His 
sinewy, wasted, hands, protruding from the 
loose sleeves, continually trembled as if seek- 
ing to lay hold upon some elusive object. 

Occasionally there issued from his thin 
lips a weird and startling cry — "Who'll 
buy my wares? Who '11 buy my wares? " 

Most people laughed when they looked 
upon these two miserable creatures, — as if 
any one wanted the old bundles and water- 
skins! The children stuck out their tongues 
and jeered as they passed; while some of 
the more venturesome threw small pebbles, 
which, on striking the jars, gave forth such 
a hollow sound that they cried: "There's 
nothing in them, they are empty, quite 
empty." 

On he went in the early morning; in the 
glare of the noonday sun; in the dusk of the 
evening, with his ceaseless cry: "Who'll buy 
my wares? Who '11 buy my precious wares? " 

Few stopped the old man; but one day 

in the falling of the dusk, a woman's voice 

called from an upper casement behind a 

carven lattice work — "Stop ! old man, stop ! " 

16 



Ufa, Vmckfvf 2)f€amd 



The little ass 

seemed to know 

instinctively 

what she wished, 

and halted before 

the door of the 

house. Both 

waited silently 

until a small grating in 

the upper part of the 

door was opened and 

the woman looking out 

spoke: 

"Tell me, Oh, An- 
cient One! what it is 

you have for sale? I 'm 

curious to know, for 

never have I seen you 

unfold your bundles nor 

show your wares to any man. Let me see 

the precious things you have concealed, for 
maybe I will choose 
to buy." 
There was a faint 
smile in the old man's 
eyes as he took a bun- 
dle from the ass's back. 
He put it on the ground, 
and untying the string 
began to separate the 
rags. For some mo- 
until the end was 





ments he continued, 



17 



3AeVmdofof$)feam6 

reached; there was nothing within. He 
calmly proceeded to take down a jar which 
he uncovered. The woman leaned forward 
and peered into its depths. She drew back 
and lifting her lustrous glance to the old 
man's face, exclaimed : 

"You silly fool! What do you mean by 
offering nothing for sale? Begone with 
your old ass!" 

With calmness the Ancient of Days re- 
plied: "I have wares to sell for which, 
Oh woman! you would barter your greatest 
treasure. I am a seller of dreams." And 
the woman laughed loud and long. 

" Your wits need mending, old addlepate," 
she cried. "I want more than dreams. I 
want substance, real substance, gold, real 
gold"; and, after a pause, "Love, real love! 
I'd sell my soul for love." 

"I can give you all, oh, daughter! All! 
Anything you wish," quavered the old mer- 
chant. 

"Thou art mad, indeed!" and she threw 
her head back with a derisive laugh, show- 
ing her even white teeth, and pushing the 
heavy braids of hair from either side her 
oval face. 

"You mock me! Give me back then my 
splendor of beauty, my glory! my passion! 
my hope! my heart's desire! Halt the 
footsteps of the years, restore the sweets 
of long ago, my mother's smile, my child- 
18 



3&e. VmdrfrfSbfwmA 

hood days; the dear of heart whose eyes 
are glazed in death. 

"Canst thou then backward turn the 
wheel of Life, Oh, Wise One! and return 
to me lost youth! lost joys! lost faith! 
lost honor?" and she laughed again, her 
low derisive laugh. "If thou canst do this 
I will pay thee thy price — the full price — 
oh mad Vendor of Dreams." 

"All this I promise, my daughter; for 
what is life but a fitful dream, soon passed. 
The dreamer possesses the earth. For in 
dreams the beggar becomes a king — the 
broken-hearted are made whole — the blind 
see, the deaf hear, and those whom death 
has parted meet again in radiant joy. In 
my precious dreams I restore lost youth, 
lost faith, lost honor; and bring love's 
fiercest passion back to withered hearts." 

"Speak, woman, wilt 
thou buy my wares, for 




others wait." 

"Indeed, old man, thou dost promise 
over much; but if thou bringest to me the 
last, even if only of the smallest fraction, 
I will sell to thee my soul." 

"According to thy desire, so be it," and 
19 



Ufa, Vmdofrf 2>feam& 

the Ancient of Days stretched forth his 
arm and touched her with the tip of his rod. 
Immediately the soul of that woman freed 
itself from her body, and flew as a bird 
from its cage. 



Two children, a boy and a girl, stood 
ankle deep in the soft, dewy grass, pelting 
each other with great hands-full of pink- 
petaled apple blossoms. Their lithe, deli- 
cate bodies showing golden in the morning 
sun were naked, save for a white cloth 
twisted around their loins. 

Their happy laughter filled the air, while 
they chased each other between the trees 
in the orchard which lay on the slope of 
the hill. 

"Come Thera!" the boy cried, "let me 
crown you with this wreath," and he put 
upon the burnished curls of the girl a 
wreath of the apple blossoms he had twined 
together. "You are my queen," he said, 
"and when I grow up I'll be a king and 
make you a real queen, for I love you! 
only you." 

The girl bent her head for the diadem 
of flowers, and laughing, said: "Ah! when 
you're a king, Agathon, no other shall be 
your queen, for I love you, too. We'll 
always, always be together," and, clasping 
each other's hands, they flew down the 
20 



UAeVmdofcf g)f€am. 

hill at the sound of a voice calling from 
a low white house at the foot, buried in 
dark green trees. 



The fluted columns of a temple to Vesta 
glistened white in the distance between the 
branches of the thick grove which surrounded 
it, while the slanting rays of the setting 
sun pierced the forest with long fingers of 
light, which here and there touched a leaf, 
or festooned vine, illuminating and defin- 
ing each from its companions with a separate 
glory and glint of color. 

Underneath the trees two walked as one 
with arms entwined and heads close touch- 
ing. There was silence between this maiden 
and youth, but it was a silence which was 
pregnant with unspoken hopes, unvoiced de- 
sires, and delirious longings. 

The very air around them seemed vibrant 
with fitful strains of music. 

"Thera!" whispered the youth Agathon: 
"Do you remember when we were children, 
how we promised to love each other for- 
ever, and to be always together? And 
now!" She turned her eyes, suffused with 
tears, upon the youth, "Oh, Agathon! It 
was not by my will that I was snatched from 
you and promised to the service of our 
Virgin Vesta. Seven years have passed, 
seven long years, since I, a child, was brought 
21 



9fo Vmdofof&fecmd 

to yonder temple and taught to light and 
keep the sacred fire burning. In all that 
time I have not ceased to think of you, 
Agathon. But alas! for thirty years I must 
perform this service, according to my vow." 
"That cursed vow," hoarsely whispered 
Agathon, under his breath. "You were mine 
before. By the Gods! you were always 
mine from the time when your dear eyes 
first unclosed upon this darkened world. 
You shall be mine again. I swear it!" 
and he took the sobbing maiden into his 
arms and pressed her close to his beating 
heart. "Fly with me by night; I'll hide 
thee by day. We will go to another land 
and live our life." 




Her face paled to an ashy grey. "I can- 
not!" she gasped. 

She shivered and paused in deep thought. 
"Thirty long years," she murmured, "my 
young life gone." Lifting her head,' she 
cried, "My soul is free, why chain my 
body to this living death?" 
22 



SHU Vrndrfof ' 2)fwmA 

She started back as if a sudden precipice 
had yawned at her feet ready to engulf her. 

"What is it, Thera? What!" 

"The penalty! The awful penalty! Do 
you know that if a Vestal Virgin break her 
vow of chastity, she's buried alive! Think! 
Buried alive!" and her voice ended in a 
whisper of terror. She folded her veil 
across her face and bowed her head. Ag- 
athon drew her to him: 

"Have courage, Thera! You are my 
soul. You are my other self made visible 
in matchless form. I will not live without 
you." 

She threw herself into his arms. 

"Our lives began together and will end 
together," she sobbed. " We cannot be 
divided." 

So these two, blind and drunk in each 
other's presence and intoxicated with their 
love, sealed their fate with a long kiss. 

"Come!" he said, and he took her by 
the hand. 

Far above in the dark blue sky, a single 
brilliant star sprang into being. The cooing 
of the turtle doves had almost ceased. 
The voices of the grove had died away, and 
the insects of the night were sleepily calling 
one to another. 

Hand in hand the two, as one, softly 
disappeared into the shadow. 



23 



JAe, VmcfofofSDreamd 

Her white robes torn, her veil rent, Thera, 
the beautiful Vestal Virgin, was being car- 
ried to her doom; the rabble followed jeer- 
ing; some were sobbing in pity for the 
lovely maiden, yet scarce daring, seeing she 
had braved the law and sinned against the 
Gods. 

Her awful doom had come. The sentence 



It was in June, when the Vestalia were 
held in honor of the goddess; but the 
loveliest of all the Virgins was now to be 
buried in a subterranean vault outside the 
gates of Delphi. A light, a scanty supply 
of bread and water, milk and oil, were 
placed within the tomb, which yawned to 
engulf this young soul who had loved o'er 
much. 

They took her on a bier as one dead; 
a white cloth was spread over her, and 
a few flowers. 

She lay immovable until they lowered 
the bier to place her in the vault. One 
wild shriek of agony rent the air, and the 
door was closed and sealed with the seal of 
the Pontifex. 




24 



3A& Vmdofrf&feamti 

An hour after, at the dusk, a runner all 
but spent, catching his breath as if each 
one might be his last, tottering, gasping, 
groaning, flung himself upon the sealed door 
of the vault. "Thera!" he cried, "Thera! 
I come!" and he plunged a dagger in his 
heart up to the hilt. 



The woman stirred uneasily in her sleep, 
opening her eyes she looked around with 
wonder at her old room. Was this then a 
dream; that she met an old, old man who 
touched her with his rod? She rubbed her 
eyes, arose and peered through the lattice 
window above the door. The old man and 
his ass had disappeared. 

She laughed and sobbed. "Oh, Wise 
One, I'll pay thee thrice over, to feel that 
same fierce joy again, to live it through once 
more. Ah! that was Love — true Love!" 

"Which is the real life, Oh, Ancient of 
Days, and which the dream?" But the 
old man, who alone could have told her, 
was already far beyond the city's gates. 



25 



CHILD OF THE IMMORTALS 



CHILD OF THE IMMORTALS 

As the "Aged One" with his ass stopped 
at a well, to slake his thirst and that of 
the patient beast, he saw a man sitting on 
a rock near by with his head bowed between 
his hands. 

So still was he that one might think he 
was carven out of the selfsame rock. The 
"Vendor of Dreams" cast a penetrating 
glance upon him and the man raised his 
head. He too laughed as his eyes rested 
on the sorry pair before him. 

"What have you for sale, old merchant- 
jars of oil, and water for the thirsty?" 

"Aye, brother! Even so! I have here 
that which will quench the thirst of your 
desires, and I'll wager you, the wares that 
I can sell are more precious than life itself." 

The man stood up. "What mean you, 
stranger? What can your jars and water- 
skins hold but oil and water?" 

"Even so, Brother, oil and water, oil 
for the wounded spirit and water for the 
thirsty soul," and the old man smiled. 
"Will you drink!" he asked. 

"Wounded in spirit and thirsty of soul, 
Old Man, am I, but you speak in riddles." 
29 



"What is life then but a riddle? I am 
a 'Vendor of Dreams V' said the aged 
One. 

"I want no dreams, old Sage. I've 
dreamed enough. I want reality, here and 
now, upon this scarred old earth, where all 
seems twisted and awry. Where the wicked 
seem to triumph and the good go unrepaid." 

"Little Brother," replied the Wise One, 
"truly this life on earth is a horrible re- 
ality, but beyond the gate of Death is the 
world of Peace eternal; between the two 
lies the kingdom of our dreams. 

"We enter this kingdom not only by 
night but by day, and the dreams we dream 
by day are our only salvation." 

"You mock me, merchant! Of what util- 
ity are dreams? They serve to cheat us 
for a while, but when we face the stern 
reality of the Cosmos which hems us in, 
we want no dreams, we want the true"; 
and the man clasped his hands until the 
cords stood out upon them. 

"Peace, Brother," cried the Ancient One. 
"7 have said, the [Dreamer possesses the 
Earth." 

And the man pondered deeply. At length, 
lifting his head, he spoke. 

"I've dreamed glorious dreams for my 

country, of a State where the Ruler ruled 

with love, when gold and gain were naught, 

and sacrifice was joy. And I have thought 

30 



to stem that mighty 'sea of sorrow formed 
of the tears of men.' 

"What good, Ancient One, was it to 
dream thus greatly ; what good to think high 
thoughts? I've failed, I've failed," and the 
man flung himself on the rock in a passion 
of regret, and buried his face in his hands. 

The Vendor of Dreams drew near. ' ' Child 
of the Immortals, cease thy grief. Thou 
hast not failed. Thou shalt yet behold 
with undimmed sight the fabric of thy 
dreams, reared high, and built within a 
deathless world. 

"Thou shalt live once more thy vision 
in the great Beyond, and dream it o'er 
and o'er again, until it shall be real in the 
world of men." And the Ancient "Vendor 
of Dreams" stretched forth his hand, and 
touching the man with the tip of his rod, 
he sank in deep slumber upon the rock. 

Meanwhile the Wizard Great passed 
slowly on his old appointed way and left 
the sleeper there with darkened eyes, with 
muffled ears and silent speech, but straight 
before his eager undimmed soul there stretched 
a splendid vision of his coming Quest. 




31 



THE QUEST 



THE QUEST 

The man lay slumbering upon the earth, 
in deep forgetfulness, while a brooding si- 
lence, heavy with darkness, enveloped him 
as with a cloak. 

Close upon the night, when the sun with- 
drew his splendor, Death came and looked 
on him with envious eyes. 

"Come! Come!" he cried, "Awake! 
Awake and go with me!" Drawing near, 
he touched a spot of light which dimly 
shone between the brows of the sleeper; 
then stooped and curiously gazed into his 
face. "Not yet," he whispered, "not yet. 
The Lord of life hath passed this way." 
And envious Death, with noiseless feet, with- 
drew into the shadowy mist. 

******* 

"Aha! Aha!" the maskers cried, "what 
have we here? Let's wake the sleeper." 
They dragged him up, wreathing his head 
with purple grapes. They pressed the red 
wine to his lips. He staggered forward 
with half-closed eyes, and clutched their 
outstretched hands in wonder. 

"Awake!" they shouted, "who sleeps while 
the sun is high? Come where flowers, red 
and blue, upon the hillside grow." "Come 
35 



UfaV*ndc/rf3)feim& 

within the forest deep, where cool streams 
murmur in the shade and the silver trout 
leap in the brook. Soft lips are pressed to 
ours, and softer eyes drop golden glances 
while the pipers play. Joy thrills the air, 
why waste the time in slumber?" 

He gazed upon them with his troubled 
eyes. "My Quest!" he cried, "I seek — 
I seek — what do I seek?" And they laughed 
in his face. "All the world seeks happiness, 
so do we; and thou fool, go with us, and 
find thy Quest." 

Then the man, full-primed, joined with 
the maskers' song and danced beneath the 
shining sun, as one who had no care. On 
the hills and through the dells their happy 
laughter thrilled until the echoes fled from 
peak to peak and died within the purple 
distance. 



At length, with burning heart, the man 
sought love. 

"Is this my Quest?" he thought, and 
forthwith plunged into the Sea of Life. The 
booming waves dashed high the flotsam and 
jetsam upon the rocky shore, and beat each 
human fragment out upon the cruel stones. 
With pitiful cries these fragments rose again 
and yet again, and, plunging back into the 
living sea, they drank once more its bitter 
waters dry. 



He joined the throng. Forward he pressed 
with flaming heart and eager eyes. The 
love-light in each woman's glance the bea- 
con was which drew him to the ends of 
earth. Here a smile and there a look, anon 
snared in a golden mesh of rippling hair, or 
caught upon twin coral lips as a butterfly 
upon a flower. He dallied while soft hands 
beckoned him, and held him with their 
magic power. 

There was he, where the wine flowed 
red, and the rose blushed red, and red were 
the mouths of women, who cried to him, 
"Oh! follow, follow us, we'll lead thee on 
to Paradise!" 

He tarried with them many a day, from 
the rosy sun of morn to the blood-red sun 
of eve. 

For them he wasted life and strength; 
he gave his red blood up in many a strife, 
in many a battle fought — the guerdon was, 
a woman's smile. Was Love that flaming star 
which ever shone, rose-red before him? 
"Yes! Yes! here is my Quest!" he cried — 
and the women with red mouths smiled 
back at him. 

"I follow you to Paradise!" And he 
pursued the women, who ran forward with 
fleet feet, and mellow songs, with glancing 
smiles and beckoning hands. "Come, come," 
they sang, "with us, with us, to Paradise." 
******* 

37 



JAe V<ynxLrf(ff2)fwmA 

Sadly he walked with drooping head, the 
day turned grey. The yellow leaves swirled 
with the wind in blackened heaps. The 
flowers lay withered on their stalks, the 
empty vessels where the wine flowed red 
lay cracked and broken at his feet. "Weary 
with the Quest, he raised his faded eyes. 
"My Paradise, lost Paradise," he said, and 
looked across the dark waters toward the 
distant shore. 

He sprang upon his feet, he listened close. 
The sound of music, tinkling clear, was 
wafted on the quiet air. He caught a 
glimpse of fairy forms, all clothed in white 
and clinging robes, which floated like a 
misty cloud around each slender form. It 
seemed to him they beckoned, Come! Again 
he heard, or thought he heard, "Oh! come 
with us to Paradise!" 

Hope lit his sombre eyes. Once more with 
outstretched hands he followed where they 
led — the women, white and innocent. With 
soft imploring hands and gentle words they 
soothed his spirit sore. They gave him love 
and comfort, home and friends. With them 
he tarried long. 

Time passed — he yearned as one who 
mourns the dead. 

"Have we not given of our all?" they 
cried, these women white and innocent. 
"We've made the Earth a Paradise for you." 
They bowed their heads with broken sobs. 
38 



WU Vmdrf(ff$)fwmA 

The man gazed at them with far-seeing 
eyes. "Yes, yes!" he said. " I've loved you 
well, but I must seek my Quest." 

Then one among the fairest hung about 
his neck with clinging arms. "Oh, stay with 
me. I am thy Paradise, thy Quest." 

But the man unwound her arms and put 
her from him. "I must away. I hear Fame's 
trumpet ringing down the ages. I see the 
fringe of glory on the mantle of the kings — 
the Kings of knowledge great and deep are 
they. For that I'll climb, I'll strive, I'll 
work. No more I'll dally with the flowers 
of May — no more I'll seek the Paradise of 
Love. Knowledge, wide, deep, high — Light, 
more Light, that is my Quest." And he ran 
forward to meet the rising Sun. 




For years he trod the path of knowledge. 
Alone for years, with bleeding feet, he climbed 
the rocky heights, and in the valleys deep 
he prayed for "Light, more Light. Give me 
more Light," he cried, "ever more Light." 

A pale Seraph looked gently down from 
up beyond the azure sky, to see who dared 
to emulate the gods. 

The man looked up, and thought he saw 
a star's faint tremble in the celestial blue. 
39 



3JU Vmdofcff&fecmd 

On he pressed. Fame crowned his brow 
— it ached beneath the crown. Men bowed 
the knee. With but a glance he passed. 
"More Light, more Light," was still the 
burden of his cry. 

He wrenched the secret from the sullen 
Earth, to him the sea gave up its prey. 
With cunning art, he tore the veil from 
night's dark face and numbered all the 
glorious army of her stars. 

He wrought in hidden ways of Earth, and 
handed men the prize he won; — 'twas ashes 
in his mouth. 

With pallid face, and daring high, he 
pressed toward the Sun, until his cry "More 
Light, more Light," rang clear through 
Heaven's high vault. Leaving his foot- 
prints upon the sands of Earth, he climbed 
the haunts of Cherubim. 

They pressed between his outstretched 
hands the victor's palm. Upon his aching 
head, the crown. 

He fell upon his knees. 

Then Cherubim and Seraphim, angels with 
beating wings, and those who wore white 
garments dipped in blood, cried out with 
one glad cry, "Here is thy Quest." 

But the man, with unslaked thirst, tnrust 
aside the Cherubim and Seraphim, and those 
who wore white garments dipped in blood, 
and cried aloud again, "More Light, still, 
still more Light," while Heaven's High Host, 
40 



3fa VwvckfrfSbfiMiti 

with sheltering wings, shielded the white 
glory from his dazzled eyes. Trembling 
he pressed between their ranks and stood 
before the Throne. 

The blinding radiance streaming forth 
from out the God of Flame smote the man 
between the eyes, and he beheld his Quest. 
******* 

At last he woke. In wild astonishment 
he gazed upon the dusty road. The pale 
moon hung low in the sky, the twilight 
haze lay quivering soft around. 

"How now, thou Ancient One," he cried, 
"if this be a dream, then blessed be thou 
who wrought such dreams, for nevermore 
will Earth be dark, nor sorrow's tears, nor 
bitter pain be mine, for I've beheld my 
Quest." 

He looked around, he gave a start, for 
lo! the Vendor of Dreams had disappeared. 
He was alone. 




The Ancient of Days moved slowly on; 
before him walked the little ass, his burden 
on his back; and still the ceaseless cry went 
forth, "Who'll buy my wares, my precious 



wares: 



?» 



41 



The darkness fell, and still they walked, 
this curious pair, when straight from out 
the gloom there came a moaning cry. The 
little ass stood still, and sniffed the cool 
dark air — his Master turned his patient 
eyes upon a prostrate form which lay before 
him in the dust. He stooped to see who 
lay upon the ground; "Come, come, arise! 
I'll cure thy grief. Behold my wondrous 
wares!" The man arose full slowly and 
with effort spoke. 

"What I sore need I cannot buy. Thou 
fool! Go on thy way. No blessed one am 
I, but damned and lost. I do not choose 
to buy." 

The Old One laughed his quavering laugh 
— the little ass brayed loud. In anger the 
man cried, "Begone, thou gibbering fool, 
from out my way." But the Wizard smiled, 
raising his rod he touched the man upon 
his breast. He sank upon the ground, while 
slow before him passed the vision of the 
"Blessed and the Damned." 



42 



THE BLESSED AND THE DAMNED 



THE BLESSED AND THE DAMNED 

The sleeper turned him in his sleep, and 
from his pallid lips there came a muffled 
cry. His soul, enwrapped and swathed in 
dense clouds of earthly vapor, lay enthralled, 
unable to burst the chrysalis which im- 
prisoned it, seeking relief in futile sighs and 
broken mutterings which rose and fell like 
the moaning of a lonely sea. 

Now and then a cry of anguish quavered 
forth from the prison house and took its 
flight, stirring the cloudy vapors into waving 
currents. Between long pauses which seemed 
filled with slowly drifting, darkly mysterious 
shadows, the fitful cries gained more and 
more coherence until at last, word-like 
sounds came from the enshrouded soul as 
if each utterance tore away some fibre of 
its being. 

So, stirring as the babe enclosed within 
the womb, who with stretchings and striv- 
ings burst with one great wondering cry 
into the world of day, so did this soul at 
last send forth a call, so fraught with strong 
despair as faintly to pierce the partition 
wall which but thinly divides the Damned 
from the Blessed. 




3/U Vwuicrt'(ff2)fwmA 

This wordless cry was flung back and 
forth, again and yet again, from one great 
gulf to another, echoing and reverberating, 
until it dropped into a vast and bottomless 
abyss. 

It now seemed to the soul that silent 
centuries passed with noiseless tread, be- 
fore it caught a faint, tremulous vibration, 
as if the wing of bird in flight had stirred 
the etheric calm. 

At first only soft floating notes, as sounds 
from an iEolian harp, broke the silence. 
The Damned one strained to hear. 

Again the melody came in chords, now 
faint, now loud, striking clear upon the 
door of his heart. He muttered in broken 
guise of speech. The strain of music ceased, 
a voice shaped itself out of the scattered 
chords, and from the other side of the thin 
partition which divided the blessed from 
the damned, awakening from serene and 
blissful contemplation, the blessed one an- 
swered to the cry of the brother soul. 

The music of the voice fell as balm upon 
the sorrow-laden one, while a pale ray of 
golden light penetrated through the en- 
wrapping vapor and lay upon the bleeding 
heart like the healing touch of a soft finger. 

But the damned one shivered and struggled 
beneath the mist of darkness which so long 
had covered it, while winged flames floated 
upward from the dusky clouds. 
46 



U-fu Vmdofof&feamiA 

Across the fathomless abyss of silence 
again and again were flung those long- 
drawn cries of anguish, of wild, delirious 
hope, of wonder. Astonished, the tortured 
soul caught the answering chords, tremu- 
lous, enquiring, vibrant. It lay entranced, 
fearing to lose a strain so rapturous, so dear. 
As one engulfed within the bosom of the 
earth alone, the death-clutch on his heart, 
shrieks aloud with joy, for he has caught the 
sound of tapping on his prison-wall, so did this 
long enshrouded soul quiver in ecstasy at the 
thrill which reached it from a brother-heart. 

Mad with joy, it sprang from its lair, 
and with the force of its desires took on a 
form, its old accustomed form. It stretched 
its limbs, it exulted in youth, in golden 
prime, the hot blood flowed again in a 
tumultuous flood, pulsating with the ful- 
ness of life. . . . Somewhere, deep in sub- 
merged consciousness, lay the memory of 
having "died." 

What matter, since it now awaked to 
sentient life. The current of sympathetic 
thought thrilled and trembled through the 
mysterious barrier once more, and the 
awakened soul cried aloud in awe and 
triumph, "Alone no more. Ah! not alone!" 
while the silence all about was filled with 
a brooding, yearning love. 

=? 



-17 



UAe Vmdofof g)fecmd 

Lo! through the partition which but thinly 
divides the Blessed from the Damned came 
the sound of a voice angelic, " Beloved, I 
have waited long. I feel thy presence, but 
I cannot see thee. Come nearer, thou be- 
loved." 

The damned one, with the madness of 
joy, broke into conscious speech at last, 
and voiced the longing of its soul. "Who 
art thou," it cried, "who speak'st to me 
of Love? Oh, blessed one, bend nearer 
with thy divine and balmy presence; touch 
the golden string of memory, and bring to 
me the dear forgotten past of which thou 
were a part." 

And the blessed one with clearer vision 
spoke, and, by reason of great pity and 
great longing, rent apart the curtain of the 
past and plucked from the screen of time 
the passing memory of two lives. 



"They found thee lying on the desert 
sands, with parched and blackened lips, 
faint fluttering heart-beats told of lingering 
life; thy beast lay dead beside thee. My 
runners brought thee in, '& dead man,' 
they said, and laid thee down anear the 
desert well. I, the queen, passed idly by 
and looked upon thy face. At once a dim 
star shone within the recess of my being; 
yearning thoughts stirred within me, while 
48 



3A& Vmdcfof&f&vmd 

a dream of heart's-delight came rushing like 
a flame across my vision. 

" I bade them tend thee; I myself bathed 
thy temples, and dropped cooling drops 
upon thy parched tongue. From the stores 
of the caravan they brought wine and 
healing herbs. As life crept back into thy 
pallid face, thine eyes, big with wonder, 
unclosed; fastening upon mine, they drank 
my soul as the thirsty hart drinks in the 
forest stream. 

"Dost remember?" And from the other 
side of the partition wall which but thinly 
divides the blessed from the damned a 
glad cry smote the air. 

"Aye! Aye! I mind me now. I wan- 
dered midst the wasting sand, raving mad, 
and dying; fearsome phantoms, premonitors 
of death, flying ever before me, until I 
dropped into the darkness. 

"Tell me more, oh! blessed one; frag- 
ments of long-forgotten joys, already float 
upon my memory's sea. I thirst for more." 
Then through the filmy, tenuous wall came 
vibrant strains of yearning love, which folded 
both the sinner and the saint in one har- 
monious embrace. 

"Could I but see thee, love, what joy 
'twould be," deep sighed the blessed one. 

"After dark void, enough it is to hear thy 
voice, ah! well remembered now. Go on! 
Goon!" 

49 



Ufa. Vmcb/'cjfSbfwmA 

"From then we knew no other than our- 
selves; it was enough to bask within the 
light of our dear love. I, the Queen, the 
proud Empress of the East, forgot all other 
joys for thee." 

"Oh, pure one! Oh, dear one, I live 
again in memory's haunts." 

The blessed one again spoke: "And I, 
alas, forgot my duty in my passion for thee, 
my guilty lover. Enough it was for me that 
thou wouldst lay thy head upon my breast, 
and I would lure thy senses into peaceful 
sleep with soothing palm. Alas! the poi- 
sonous snake already lurked within our par- 
adise; already raised the hand, which was 
to murder our love's dream. 

" The Prince of Aja claimed me for his own 
by right of kin. The trumpet's red blare 
sounded hoarse throughout the land. The 
banners floating in the breeze proclaimed 
our wooing. The Cohorts gathered, the 
great Leaders rode in solemn bearing at 
their head, approving our choice. 

"The glad nation rose in wild acclaim. 
All night, all day, the glittering throng 
streamed on in never-ceasing motion, creep- 
ing across the plain towards the city, like 
unto a monstrous serpent with glancing 
scales of green and gold. 

"Alone our sad hearts trembled 'neath the 
jeweled robes. The perfumed halls, be- 
decked with flowers rare, and fronds of 
50 



3/U Vmdofrf 2)f€amti 

palm, were ready for our nuptial night, and 
naught remained to do before the breaking 
of the dawn which was to bring the Prince 
to my abode." 

Stifled sighs and moans of anguish came 
sifting through the curtain dense which 
parted these two souls. 

"Ah! well do I remember now, oh, 
blessed one, so doth Desire, the 'Master 
Knave,' tempt us on, luring us into his 
toils, in guise of Love. On fire with love 
for thee, my peerless beauty, unheeding 
the great powers which stood behind the 
throne, I dared to dream of holding thee 
within my arms. 

"Wild with despair at thought of him, 
who even now was drawing near to pluck 
my lily from the stem, and wear it on his 
heart, unheeding, unknowing, my winged 
feet took me swiftly to my doom." 

And now from the blessed one came the 
sharp cry of a wounded heart: "Alas! 
dost thou remember that?" 

In the slow pause which dropped be- 
tween these two there arose ever-changing 
hues of colors rare, melting now here, now 
there, into new and gorgeous dyes, jewel- 
flecked with gold and silver. Strange per- 
fumes exuded from these colors rare, in- 
toxicating the two lovers with long-forgotten 
bliss. 

These hues, these scents, congealed them- 
51 



Ufa VtTidrfrfSifwmA 

selves, and beat as winged thoughts within 
their hearts in pulsing waves of feeling. 

These thoughts in turn gave birth to 
forms, which clothed themselves anew in 
memory's garb. Bridging Time's gulf, they 
brought the present into fairer light from 
the phantom sea of dark oblivion. 

Again the blessed one took up the tale. 



"Thou earnest up by the dense ivy which 
clambered high upon my tower walls, spring- 
ing through the open casement into my 
arms. Only one short hour now before 
the dawn. Softly thou didst speak : 'Haste! 
Haste! my love. The stars grow pale.' 

"Ah! but the guards kept watch outside 
my chamber door, and we listened to the 
maiden's soft breathing in the anteroom. 
'Twere death to thee, if one awoke and 
found thee here. 

"Unafraid, thou didst plead with me to 
fly the morrow. The marriage over, in the 
twilight, thou would'st meet me at the gar- 
den door, outside my bridal chamber. To- 
gether we would flee into the desert, and 
beyond. 

"Ah, blind indeed are mortals to their 
fate; and who can escape the destiny deep 
written on his soul. 

"Thou stood'st before me as a God — 
52 



3fu V<mdofof$)r€amiA 

thine eyes looked into my soul, straight, 
as one who sees his death before him. 
'Wilt thou come?' My heart leapt to thine 
in answer, but my lips replied 'I cannot, 
oh, my love, forgive ! 

"'I dare not cast my duty off as Queen 
of all my people. I sacrifice myself with 
joy, but thou, beloved one, thou!' I threw 
myself upon thy neck, straining thee to 
my heart in anguish dread. Thou didst 
thrust me from thee, distraught at my 
reply; fierce anger seized thy brain. 

"'Then thou dost love the Prince!' 

"I shrank as if the words had been a 
blow, and fell upon the couch. 

"A faint light crept upon the chamber 
wall; the dawn was coming blood-red from 
the desert, and one by one the midnight 
stars withdrew their watching eyes. 

"A moment more, I shivered as I saw 
the horror on thy pallid face; trembling, 
as if rooted to the ground, drawing each 
breath as if it were the last — thine eyes 
were fixed as if thou saw'st a vision. 




"Drawn as by invisible but mighty hands, 
I came nearer to thee. Without a word 
thou didst leap toward me. seizing me in 
53 



3/U Vmcbf(ff2)f&wU 

thy strong arms; and, crushing me upon 
thy breast until my breath was almost spent, 
thou didst plunge a dagger in my heart. 
"I knew no more." 



A cry of anguish and of triumph came 
from the damned one. 

"Yes, crazed with grief, I killed thee, 
but I loved thee well, and now I've found 
thee. 

: "My expiation, for long centuries to be 
immured within these walls of silence, alone 
without thy smile, e'en memory gone of 
thee and thy dear love. 

"Dost thou forgive me, well-beloved?" 
And from the blessed one came a glad mur- 
mur as of soft laughter, and the thin par- 
tition thinner grew, until the two dimly 
discerned each other's shapes as objects 
through a mist. 

The damned one now strove to rend the 
curtain which still hung between, inexor- 
able. With fierce cries and struggles he 
beat upon the dividing wall, the blessed 
one beyond meanwhile praying with strong 
entreaty, mixed with tears, for the libera- 
tion of their souls. 

When hope had almost died a shape of 
beauty floated from above, and a voice of 
heavenly sweetness dropped as dew upon 
their souls. 

54 



Ufa Vmtdafof g)fwmA 

11 Oh, foolish ones, see ye not there is 
no barrier. By thought alone 'twas formed, 
by thought alone is it destroyed." 

"Behold! there is no damned, there is 
no blessed, but all are one within the Light 
of God." 

The voice ceased. 



Amazed, the two souls, with one trium- 
phant cry, leaped together, and found them- 
selves once more in Paradise. 



With shining eyes the man arose, while 
the blessed memory of Paradise still bathed 
his soul in joy. 

"Was it a dream? It matters not," he 
said. "I've seen, I've felt, I've tasted of 
the Real; writ deep upon the conscious 
tablets of my soul. 

"The pendulum low swings from waking 
on to sleeping, from Life to Death, but 
always swings it through great seas of pul- 
sate consciousness alert with vibrant life. 

"Which is the Real," he asked, "here or 
beyond?" 

And while he spoke, the "Vendor of 
Dreams" pursued his ancient way. He 
traveled many a weary mile, when sud- 
55 



2Ae Vmdafof g)fwmA 

denly the little ass pricked up his ears at 
sound of cymbals clang, and tinkling anklets 
ring. 

The smell of incense rare, and perfume 
of the sandalwood, hung faint upon the 
breeze. 




The old man sighed as if he too were 
weary, but no, 'twas but a fleeting memory 
of old! — when all at once a turn of the 
road revealed a low house standing 'neath the 
Palms; — within was sound of revelry and 
feast. 

A woman darted swift from out the open 
door, and ran across the soft greensward. 

She stood a moment still, then waved 
her hand to stop the wandering pair. 

"Old man, old man, what have you there 
for sale?" 

She came across the road and stood close 
by the two. 

The Ancient of Days gazed for a moment 
steadily into her face. 

"What dost thou need, oh daughter? 
Jewels and laces, silks and satins rare, of 
lustrous hue, silver and gold?" 

The woman sighed, "Old man, I want no 
jewels, silks or satins, silver or gold, of 
56 



7Ae VmdofofSDfecmd 

these I have enough," and she sighed once 
more. 

"I know not why I called — perhaps be- 
cause I have a longing, a great longing — 
I scarce can tell you what it is — I'm tired — 
I'm tired of the glare, the dance, deceit and 
lies, the faithless, the untrue. Forsaken 
now, I walk alone. Unsatisfied, I live. 

"No! No! I will not buy — for surely 
thou hast naught I need." 

The Ancient One spoke low. "Be not 
so hasty, oh my daughter! For I can give 
you all you seek." 

"Oh, Madman! What I need, would fill 
thy bundles old, thy jars and water-skins, 
thrice times, and thrice again. I've dreamed 
of wondrous things. It seemed sometimes 
as if I saw, behind the curtain of the sky, 
strange and mysterious sights." 

The old man nodded. "Yes," he said, "of 
strange and wondrous things." He lifted 
up his rod and in mercy touched her bended 
head. She fell upon the sward. 

For one brief moment the Master-Magician 
looked upon the prostrate form; then whis- 
pered soft, "Oh, pilgrim soul, behold thy 
vision clear." 



57 



THE PLAINT OF THE PILGRIM 
SOUL 



THE PLAINT OF THE PILGRIM SOUL 

From within the bosom of the dark un- 
fathomable abyss of Space, there sprang 
a tiny spark. 

It tremblingly vibrated for a time, and 
times — unmarked by centuries' flight, then 
dropped into the vast blue ether, hanging 
by a thread of golden light. 

Simultaneously upon the bosom of this 
unfathomable abyss shone milliards of scin- 
tillating sparks, each holding by its thread 
of light, stirring the ether with exultant 
throbs, and streams of joyous melody. 

These Pilgrim Souls, as yet unconscious 
of the fateful path of Necessity, which, 
stretched in immeasurable distance before 
them, shone with sheer bliss of Being. 

Still in close union with their wondrous 
and mysterious Source, they knew naught 
but conscious joy. 

iEons passed. 

******* 

Suddenly a whir as of a million wings 

rent the blue Ether. Cold, as of the breath 

of Death, passed by, as the awful voice of 

the First Angel came forth, shaking the 

61 



3/U Vmdofrf&ftamti 

foundations of Eternity and summoning the 
listening stars. Each Pilgrim spark then 
knew that the dread Fiat had gone forth. 

They shivered as they fell . . . down 
. . . down . . . away from their abode of 
bliss. Still clinging fast by their threads of 
gold, attenuated though they were, and pale, ' 
they dropped from point to point in awful 
Space, losing each time somewhat of their 
spendor, something of their radiant joy. 

At length, drawn by a powerful and ir- 
resistible magnetism, they were caught within 
the toils of the great Ellipse of nebulous 
substance, the " Milky Way," the broad 
"River of Heaven" whose vast oval swept 
magnificently through the fields of Space 
and within whose mighty bosom the seed- 
stuff of future heavenly worlds whirled 
and seethed, crashed and collided, in fiery 
frantic effort, to give birth to comets, stars 
and planets. 

Caught in the mighty grasp of the Lords 
of Karma, those Pilgrim Souls were hurled 
into a lower sphere, still beautiful, where 
they floated in serene and conscious bliss, 
in oval forms of substance, clothed in colors 
rare, which changed and vibrated responsive 
to their thought. 

At last in deep repose they rested, still 
mercifully unaware of the long, weary road 
of Necessity, which stretched immeasurably 
on before them. 

62 



fte. Vmdofof&ftaMiA 



Again aeons passed, as, one by one, each 
beauteous sphere, obedient to the summons 
from within, floated silently down; descend- 
ing into the womb of Matter, they finally 
emerged to walk upon the stony Path of 
Fate. 

Drunk with the waters of Lethe, veiled, 
blind, and sorrow-laden, they roamed, for- 
getful of their Lordly lineage and of their 
high estate. 




63 



THE WOMAN, ALONE! ALWAYS 
ALONE! 




THE SPECTRE DEATH 



THE WOMAN, ALONE! ALWAYS 
ALONE! 

The form of a woman lay face downward 
upon the burning sands. Occasional long- 
drawn moans betokened life, still chained 
unwilling to the weary body. 

She lay for hours thus, bereft of movement. 
At last when the hot red sun had dropped 
behind the curtain of purple clouds which 
hung low upon the circle of the world, she 
stretched forth a parched and stiffened arm, 
as if to warn away the spectre Death, who 
stood apart with hooded head waiting to 
give the final stroke. 

She stretched her other arm, when lo! 
her fingers touched the form of a whitened 
skeleton, which all unnoticed lay beside 
her. 

With a stifled cry she turned and raised 
herself upon the sands. Her anguished eyes 
looked out across the arid waste — filled with 
regret, despair and utter loneliness, she wept. 
The silence lay unbroken by human sound. 

Suddenly the woman shrieked aloud. 
"Alone! Always alone! The weird echoes 
took up the plaint and flung it back again — 
" always alone!" 

67 



UAe Vmdrf(ff2)fwmA 

She rose and stood upon her feet, beating 
the air with futile, frantic hands, she cried, 
"there is no God." Appalled by her utter- 
ance she paused affrighted . . . then laughed 
aloud in scorn. " There is no God," again 
she called, and shivered in the silence. 
"If there were, He would have mercy shown, 
or else have struck me dead ere this." 

She gazed around, as if expecting voices 
from the dreary sands. "Is there a God?" 
she questioned of the waste, and echo an- 
swered "God." 

"They said my soul was lost — my soul." 
She laughed, a bitter laugh this time, when 
lo! instead of weird and distant echoes, 
a clear and still voice spoke in accents low. 
She sprang aside, as if she feared a blow; 
she looked around, but on the dull gray 
waste, there moved no living thing. 

Again she heard the voice — this time it 
seemed to be within. "Who art thou?" 
she asked in whispered dread. 

The voice replied: "Oh, woman, we two 
have journeyed long together. Dost thou 
not know me? Caught within the meshes 
of thy life, I suffer with thee, strive and 
toil with thee. With thee, I am haunted with 
the demon of loneliness." 

"I know thee not," the woman moaned, 
"I never knew thee. Alone am I, always 
alone." 

"Fool," said the Voice. " Twas I who 



55k Vmdrf(ff2)fwmA 

built thy body, atom by atom. I myself 
formed it a holy mansion for my use, and 
thou hast made it vile — so vile, it scarce 
can minister to my desires — I, who speak, 
I am thyself, thy soul. 

"Imprisoned, bound, I long for freedom.; 
Dragging me down into the mire of life, 
thou hast soiled my whiteness, dimmed 
the lustre of my being. Arise! and set me 
free!" 

Aghast, the woman whispered in the dust, 
"I never knew you. Art thou a demon, that 
thou thus doth mock me?" 

"I mock thee not," the Soul replied. 
"Oft, in the darkness of the night, I made 
my presence felt in dreams of bliss. Awak- 
ing in the morning thou didst feel a burden 
lifted from thy sorrowing heart. When, all 
forsaken, thou wert fallen in the dust, 
starving, stricken, bereft of all that men call 
dear, 'twas I, who whispered words of peace 
and hope* and yet thou didst not under- 
stand." 

"Alas!" the woman moaned. "If then in 
man I found no help, no mercy, how could 
I hope to find it in a God whom I could 
neither see nor know?" 

"Thou, the mortal, may not see nor 
know, but thou, the immortal, basks for 
ever in the Light of the Sun of Right- 
eousness; for thou art a spark from that 
Great Sun, struck from the anvil of Life 



by the hammer of Destiny, fallen into the 
darkness of matter, from whence thou must 
with pain and travail work upward to thy 
Source once more." 

"Oh, take away the pam," the woman 
cried — "enough, enough, I've had." 

"I would not if I could," the Soul re- 
plied, "for only through the Golgotha canst 
thou walk upward to the Heights." 

The woman shivered . . . "and then, 
what then, after the Golgotha? " 

"Peace," said the Soul. . . . "for from the 
heights thou canst plainly see the road by 
which thou came — each fault, each sin, a 
step upon which thou didst mount upward 
to the Sun." 

"What more is on the Heights, what 
more?" 

"Love; from there thou canst behold 
a sea of boundless Love, upon whose broad 
expanse floats the Universe of weary souls 
like thine — pilgrims alike upon this sorrow- 
ful Star." I 

"I thought I was alone, always alone!" 
and the woman's pale and death-like face 
was flooded by a ray from that Great Sun 
in which all souls abide. 

She stretched her wasted hands toward 
the brooding heavens. 

Deep silence lay upon the sands. . . . 

A long sigh escaped the woman's parched 
lips, as a chord broke within her heart, 
70 



3Ae Vmdcfof&fecmA 

loosening the strain of life and sorrow; 
when, lo! the Demon of Loneliness flung off 
the cloak of darkness and became trans- 
formed into the Angel of Light and Love. 




With overshadowing wings, it bore the 
soul of the woman up past the crescent moon, 
beyond the watching stars, up through the 
oval Ring where the slumbering Comets 
lay — up, still up, through sweeps of silver- 
white Angelic Beings, who hung, poised in 
Space, floating upon the Breath of God. 

Up, still up, until at last the purified 
soul lay at rest upon the bosom of the 
Infinite, encompassed about with Peace and 
Love. 



The woman stretched her supple limbs, 
and raised her heavy lids. Her eager eyes 
gazed wonderingly o'er trees and sky; she 
saw the low house still beneath the Palms, 
no lights within. 

The sound of feast and revelry was 
hushed, the dancers gone. The pale cold 
moon was rising from the purple cloud 
which stretched above the dark green trees, 
spreading a silvery veil o'er all. 
71 



Ufa V<mjdcr/'<ff2)fwmA 

She looked around amazed to find herself 
alone. 

Where then was the Wizard old, with 
his rod and patient beast? Surely he had 
spoken to her of strange and wondrous 
things, of slumbering comets bright, of 
clear and watching stars, of floating, white 
angelic beings. 

Oh, what Peace! What Love! it dropped 
like dew under the silver night. "It is no 
dream," she cried, and softly went her 
new-found way. ***** 



72 



THE PHILOSOPHER-SAGE 




THE PHILOSOPHER-SAGE 

Far distant without the gates of a great 
city, a Philosopher-Sage, weary with much 
pondering on the scheme of Life, sat on 
a bench of stone, near the edge of the olive 
grove beside a limpid stream. 

He sank his plummet line of thought 
deep into the Ocean's depths, if so he might 
discern the basic trend of things. 

He sought to know the Primal cause, 
the Why, the Wherefore of the Cosmic 
plan. How from the Perfect One did im- 
perfection first arise, and what the soul? 

Weary with tossing to and fro this 
mental shuttlecock, he fell into deep slum- 
ber. 

Softly and silently along the sandy road, 
came into view the little patient ass, lazily 
strolling before the Ancient Wizard of 
Dreams. 

He stopped still in his tracks. 
The Wise One pausing too, regarded long 
the sleeping Sage. 

"He dreams," he said, and softly laughed 
beneath his breath; but I will give him of 
75 



WU Vmdrf(ff2)fwmA 

my choicest dreams, my splendid Cosmic 
dreams." 

He forthwith laid his magic rod upon the 
sleeper's head. 

The man stirred not, for deep in bound- 
less and mysterious Space, among the stars 
he roamed. The Earth receded from his 
mental grasp, while the bright vision of the 
Soul unfolded to his gaze. He saw — he 
heard — The Cry of Unborn Souls. 



76 



THE CRY OF THE UNBORN SOULS 




TTTE PILGRIM SOULS 



THE CRY OF THE UNBORN SOULS 

As a child sleeps upon the bosom of 
its mother, so do "I" the naked unborn 
"I," repose in silent bliss upon a mighty 
Consciousness, a brooding Love. Upheld 
by this crystalline, pure and radiant splendor, 
I float in ecstasy, I dream, I sleep. 

Enwrapped in tenderness most infinite, 
I am conscious but of Peace, a Peace which 
passes understanding, and which I do but 
sense. 

Deep and deeper still I sink within the 
measureless depths of this profound and 
silent Peace. 

The "I," the unborn "I," knows itself 
no longer a separate spark in this immensity. 

Behold! I am become the Peace. I am 
become the Light, and now,— I fade, I 
melt into this Cosmic sea of nothingness. 
... I fade into ^Eonic Time. 




79 



UAe Vmdafof SDfecmd 

With awful suddenness a lightning flash 
from the mind of the Eternal God rent 
apart the mysterious depths of this en- 
trancing Peace. 

A sound as of a million mighty trumpets 
tore the darkness from the Light. 

Three times the Heavens were rent, three 
times the voice of Awful Space rang out. 

"Come forth! Come forth! Come forth! 
thou uncreate ! " \ 

The uncreated shivered in the depths, 
while a sound as of the cry of lost souls 
was wafted through the Heavens. 

Again the voice was heard. 

"Awake! Awake! Thou sleeping ones." 

Slowly from the bosom of the Undivided 
One emerged the souls of atoms bright. 
Obedient to the harmony of God, they 
formed themselves in wondrous curves, in 
angles, squares, then moved upon the Cos- 
mic Sea, with measured beat. 

"Go forth! Go forth! increase and mul- 
tiply," said the Eternal God. And the atoms 
were as grains of sand upon the shore of 
Time, while from the uncreated ones there 
came an awful cry. 

"Oh, make us not to be reborn, thou 
Master God! Cast us not out from thy 
Eternal Presence dear! Break not our 
Peace, our rest!" 

But the Great and Wonderful declared > 
"Go forth on thy appointed task, oh 
80 



souls, go forth and manifest my glorious 
Will." 

The souls moaned. 

"Oh, must we go down into Earth's 
travail, down into the protean dust with 
awful labor, doomed to wander through the 
teeming Life, from cell to man? Oh God! 
we are aweary." 

Then the Mighty One blew His breath 
upon the scroll of Time, and traced thereon 
their fated path upon the road of dire 
necessity. 

Then the souls in anguish cried and 
struggled to escape, but caught within the 
meshes of the web of Life they struggled 
all in vain. 

"Have pity Thou, the Master-God!" 
they plead. ' ' Have pity thou ! ' ' 

At last their lamentations ceased, and 
the Master with wondrous pity cast these 
pleading souls into the dark waters of Lethe 
where they mercifully forgot the vast, im- 
memorial, splendid, radiant Past, of which 
they were a part. 

Then the Master smiled . . . and gathered 
in his Mighty hands the shining threads 
on which these precious souls were strung, 
as pearls upon a golden cord, that none 
might drop unloved, unwatched. 

He wrote their names upon white stones. 
He placed His signet on their hearts and 
in the warp and woof of Cosmic web, He 
81 



UAe Vmdefcff&feamti 

wove a golden pattern rare, each wondrous 
flower and shape, a life, a soul. 

"Oh souls!" He said, "thou art but motes 
upon the Cosmic sea, and cannot know the 
glorious goal to which thou now must press. 
Thou canst not know the "how" the "why" 
within the Eternal Mind, but press thou 
must, on this unending quest toward the 
perfect good. 

"In patience bear the burdens thou hast 
made, full many for thy sorrow, thy solace 
but to lift a fragment of the woe of worlds, 
and dry a falling tear — so shall thy path 
be straight, thy victory sure, unto that 
wondrous and illimitable goal which scarce 
the minds of Highest Gods have dared to 
glimpse." 

The Silence fell. 

The Master placed His august hand upon 
the Spheres — and forthwith came a glorious 
peal of music from the Heavens which 
broke across the Sea of Life, and stirred it 
into Being. The countless hosts arose there- 
with, the infinitely small, the infinitely 
great. The teeming myriads thronged and 
seethed, and pushed and struggled into life, 
limitless, pulsating, breathing, multiplying. 

Again the word went forth. "Awake, 
awake! Oh, myriad souls. Awake! and do 
my Will!" 

Behold from out the teeming mass the 
souls appeared — some groveling still, deep 
82 



in primeval mud, some bursting forth in 
plants and flowers sweet, while others lived 
in powerful beasts, and crawled in serpents 
vile. 

But through the eyes of man alone, tnere 
looked the naked unborn "I," the soul — 
ancient, eternal, deathless, a wandering God, 
a pilgrim from the farther shore. And now 
begins its long and arduous climb, encased 
within its robe of flesh. 

The awful pressure of relentless necessity 
forces it upon the path of growth, to be a 
God or else to fall as unripe fruit and perish 
by the way. Ever seeking the Light, which 
ever recedes before it, it sees no hope, save 
in a life to come. 

Alone it treads the dark wine-press of 
sorrow, alone it walks the path of Power, 
until at last, one glad and glorious day 
this deathless soul, past all sorrow, past all 
care, looks out triumphant through the 
serene eyes of a God and knows that all is 
good, that all is just. 

And now on the "Great Day-Be- With- 
Us" the Voice of the Eternal God thunders 
once more through space, crying "Come 
unto Me, my pilgrims souls, for thou art 
dear to Me. Come into peace and rest." 

And the Souls, obeying the voice, rested 

in beatific peace until the dawning of 

another Cosmic Day, to issue forth once 

more to tread the Path of Power and point 

83 



the way to lonely souls across the awful 
Ocean of Eternity. 




The Sage unclosed his heavy eyes, not 
fully yet awake, for still before him passed 
the Cosmic dream of souls in making. In 
one brief instant he had caught a precious 
glimpse of the Creative Source; there, 
stamped upon his consciousness in ideas 
and words of living flame, he knew the 
Eternal Soul. 

Not all his life of thought profound, 
not all his studies deep, had yielded him 
this concept of the True, which came as 
lightning swift across his mental sky. 

It was his own, his very own, a revela- 
tion real, never to be erased in Time or in 
Eternity from the pure tablets of his soul. 
He thrilled with fresh and deep amaze. 

A slight sound caught his ear. He turned 
— a little ass with bundles on his back was 
drinking from the limpid stream, while 
close beside him stood the Ancient Man 
of Dreams leaning upon his magic rod. 

"Who art thou, Oh venerable, dusty one! 
Much travel-stained art thou. Hast wares 
to sell?" 

84 



fMu. VmdofcrfSDrtamti 

The old man nodded — "Yes," he said. 
"I have most precious wares." 

Amused, the sage smiled in his face. 
"For sooth," he said, " great store thou 
settest by old water-skins, and jars, cracked 
now beyond repair. Whence comest thou?" 

Gravely the Ancient of Days looked 
through the Sage. 

"I come from Land of Dreams. These 
are the wares I sell." 

"So," said the Sage, "'tis dreams thou 
sellest. Poor man, thou art as cracked as 
are thy jars. I'll walk with thee awhile." 
And the three went on together down the 
hill along the dusty road. 

"Sage and Philosopher thou, and yet 
thou thinkest me a fool, crackbrained and 
old," replied the Wizard. 

"I ask of thee forgiveness," said the 
Sage, "but that thou sellest dreams doth 
make me laugh. No longer doth mankind 
believe in dreams." 

"Alas! I know. For them the gates of 
gold are closed, the entrance to their para- 
dise fast barred; blind, blind are they," 
and the old man, lost in reverie, trembled 
a little as he walked. "Tell me," he said, 
"hast thou not dreamed great and mag- 
nificent dreams?" And he looked sidewise 
upon the Sage before him. 

"Thou hast a meaning in thy speech!" 
cried the Seeker of Wisdom, and all three 
85 



halted in their tracks. The little ass 
turned round his head, wagging his pend- 
ant ears, while curiously he gazed into the 
Sage's eyes. 

His Master leaned upon his flank and 
rested while he spoke. 

"I have a meaning, yes! a meaning 
deep. 

"Just now in sleep thou hadst a vision 
rare. Far into Cosmic depths thou didst 
behold. The afterglow lies yet upon thy 
soul, the wonder in thine eyes." 

The man quick asked of him the truth. 
"Dost thou then know?" 

Once more the old man bowed his hoary 
head and smiling said, 

"Thou didst behold the unborn souls, 
still resting in the bosom of the Uncreated 
One, and heard their plaintive cries." 

"Oh, by the Gods, a Wizard great art 
thou," exclaimed the man. "Discover now 
to me thy secret lore," but the Old Man 
shook his head. 

"I touched thee with my magic rod, and 
lo! the Serpent-fire leaping upward through 
the cord, sprang into the golden seed which 
swings within thy brain. Trembling it 
opened like a flower, and thou didst see thy 
vision." 

"Touch me once more, oh Wizard rare — 
but lay thy magic rod upon me once again," 
entreated still the Sage. 
86 



Jfa. Vmdrf(jf2)fecm6 

"Enough it is," the Wizard said, "that 
thou hast glimpsed the True. From now 
thou canst, thyself, look into the Root and 
Primal Cause. 

"In Faith and Peace abide," and the 
Vendor of Dreams, with his wise and pa- 
tient beast, disappeared from view at a 
sudden turn of the road. 

For long the Sage stood wrapped in 
thought, then hastened on to seek the 
Treasure of the hills and the "small old 
Path, that stretches far away." 

******* 

Time passed, and came, and passed again, 
while the Vendor of Dreams, unweary, calm, 
pursued his ceaseless way. Scorn nor de- 
rision stirred his equal poise ; alike unmoved 
by thanks, or by ingratitude, he walked in 
endless search of those who sought the 
Real and the True. 



87 



THE MAN OF SCIENCE 




Bfc 



THE MAN OF- SCIENCE 

Fresh as the dawn the meadow stood, all 
clothed in living green. Field flowers, yel- 
low, blue and red, lay star-like on its breast, 
while the early rays of morning sun shone 
warm upon the dew, casting a shimmering 
veil, translucent, bright, over the fields and 
streams. 

The butterflies and bees, intent upon 
their quest, flew fast from flower to flower, 
sucking the honey sweet. Gorgeous were 
they of every hue, some rioting in purple, 
red and gold, and some ephemeral, pale, 
like phantoms 'neath the sun. 

The air was filled with murmuring hum 
of myriad insect life. Exultant Nature 
called from every side, and in the midst 
a man of science stood, who with his net 
enmeshed the radiant butterflies— those fleet- 
ing symbols of the soul. He pinned them 
through, and bruised their lovely wings in 
vain and fruitless search. 

He sought the final, secret origin of 
creatures all. He peered into the abyss of 
biologic time, endeavoring to bridge the 
gulf between the amoeba and the man. 
Alas! with all his efforts great he could not 
91 



make the smallest particle of matter thrill 
with that mysterious wonder we call Life. 

And if he did create a form, and in it 
capture Life, whence came that Life? 

Oh! endless, futile search. 

The more he sought, the deeper spread 
before his gaze that vast mysterious gulf, 
impenetrable, dark. Suspended over this 
abyss, his trembling heart despaired for lo! 
these many years, continually he had asked 
of Science "What and where." Science 
could give but one reply. 

"We do not know" 

He laid his net upon the ground and sat 
him down beside it, plunged in deepest 
thought. A thousand times he pondered 
on the trinity of Ether, Matter, Force. 
The supposititious Ether, what of it? "We 
do not know," he sighed; "and of matter — 
nothing, absolutely nothing do we know of 
any living body, as it is" 

His failure made him rage, he beat the 
ground with folded fist. "Of Energy," he 
cried, "what can we know, except by its 
effects." 

He groaned aloud. 

"If surely I could but perceive of what 
the heart and core of Atom bright consists, 
I then would know the Universe in which 
we Live— All! All!" 

He flung himself upon the grass, weary 
and sore-spent; closing his eyes he tried 
92 



Me Vmdofrf2)feamti 

to still his tired brain. A light cool breeze 
blew on his face, while the continuous hum 
of insect life drummed softly in his ears. 
He fell asleep. 

When he awoke, the setting sun cast 
slanting shadows on the grass — a chill was 
in the air — his broken net beside him lay, 
the butterflies had fled. 

He sat up in amaze, so sure was he that 
he had seen a little burdened ass, whose 
Master bore a rod. 

The picture of the two seemed graven on 
his brain. 

He well remembered how the old man 
smiled at him and bade him dream a splen- 
did dream of evolution's trend. 

His mind was trembling still with marvels 
great. The Music of the Spheres was 
sounding in his ears; the Light of thousand 
living things still left their radiance on his 
heart, and in the Ideal Cell he saw the 
promise and the plan, and now the un- 
clouded panorama of the Soul, spread clear 
before him, from Seed to Blossom, then 
the Fruit. 




THE SEED, THE BLOSSOM, AND 
THE FRUIT 



THE SEED, THE BLOSSOM, AND 
THE FRUIT 

Within the mighty Matrix of the Undi- 
vided One, the soft moist darkness stirred 
with conscious thrill. 

The Ideal, traced in faint, exquisite lines, 
its future image in the atom's heart — and 
. . . slept. 

Layer upon layer the Builders spread of 
dark and living ether around this Ideal 
form, the cell, the seed, the future promise 
of a God. 

"After My own likeness have I made 
thee. Live and Love!" 

"Who calls?" came in faint whisper from 
the growing seed and forthwith thrilled 
within its shining heart a living spark which 
would, in aeons yet to come, evolve from 
out its dual cell the precious Ego rare, Im- 
mortal, God-like, Free. 

Where one was, now were two! Deep 
down, enwrapped within the close-pressed 
earth, the mineral whispered low, "I come." 
The stone replied, while metals dimly shone 
with radiance soft. After the Mighty Law, 
the crystals built in geometric forms divine, 
and laid their lines in harmony of num- 
bers true. 

Obedient to the Cosmic call of Love the 
seed now wove from out its heart the future 
97 



SAe. VmdofrfSbf&md 

plant; which bared its bosom to the Shining 
sun, and drank the dews of Heaven. 




One joyous day, amid soft music strains, 
burst forth a flower, rare, complete. Its 
fragrance filled the earth, and wandered to 
the skies. 

"After my own likeness have I made 
thee. Onward press." 

And the seed cried, 

"Who calls?" 

Once more the Cosmic impulse sprang 
within the atomic cell, and while before 
it slumbered in the plant, it now awoke 
in beast and bird. Evolving still more 
conscious life, it filled the teeming earth 
with forms — monstrous, weird, and passing 
strange — anon, entrancing, beautiful — and 
rested from its labors. 

"In My own likeness have I fashioned 
thee. Press onward to the crown." 

And the seed cried once more, 

"Who calls?" 

From the dark womb of Nature there 
forthwith came a startled cry. 
98 



UAe Vmcfofof&fwrrul 

" I wake, oh, Master! at Thy magic touch," 
and the cell grew, it burst its radiant 
heart. The monad climbed with arduous toil 
up, up, through all the wondrous paths of 
Conscious Life, "a stone, a plant, a beast, 
a man, a God," the apex of the mount. 

Traced by the finger of the Eternal God 
the memory of its glorious past was writ 
within its heart, but the waters of Lethe 
bathed it o'er. It slumbered once again. 

"After my own likeness have I fashioned 
thee." 

"Arise and live, and love," and the Soul 
cried with joy, 
"Who calls?" 

Again the One makes two, the two make 
one. 

The Builders flew to their appointed task. 
Layer upon layer they spread once more 
around the Ideal cell ; with care they wrought 
within its walls, atom by atom, molecule 
by molecule, until the Ideal form angelic 
lay within its cradle dark, and crooned 
and sang; for lo! the Undivided One spoke 
through its shape the shape of Man. 




High heaven rang out with radiant joy, 
the earth took up the strain and down in 
99 



9fa VwicbffffSDfawnA 

lowest realms was heard a faint but glad 
acclaim, "For unto us a Son is born." 

"In My own likeness have I fashioned 
thee. Go live and love." 

And the Soul cried aloud, 

"Who calls?" 

And now the Great Work was begun. 
The plan was traced upon the trestle- 
board of Life. The jewel of great price 
was cut, with many facets bright. From 
out the diamond of the heart 'twas wrought, 
a fragment from the Eternal One. 

"Who calls me?" said the listening seed, 
and forthwith sprang the glorious blossom 
of the mighty past, the Ego-Soul. 

It stood forth strong and deathless, un- 
afraid — in might and empire clothed. Pure, 
holy and alone it lives, a chalice of Divinity, 
holding the Light which beckons on each 
Pilgrim Soul along the appointed Path. Let 
neither man nor demon dare to press as 
much as finger-tip upon its sacred Life. 

It wills — It thinks — It loves. 

And now, fight onward, daring one, upon 
thy head a star, upon thy lips a seal. 

The Seraphim and Cherubim press back 
their snowy wings to make a way for thee 
to pass. 



100 



Me Vmdrf(ff2)f£amti 

The bright ones crowding round the 
Throne, hold out the victor's palm. 

Not yet! Not yet! Thou art but man. 
To be a Saviour and a God, is now thy 
blessed Goal. 

And the man sang forth, 

"I come, I come." And he ran to do the 
bidding of the Voice. 

He walked among the lowly of the 
earth, God's poor; he caught their failing 
hands; he dried their salt and bitter tears, 
and made the burden of the heavy-laden, 
light. 

"Come, tired children all, and I will give 
thee rest." 

And the tired children fell, and clasped 
His feet, and smiled amid their tears. 

"Who calls?" they cried. "Who calls?" 

And the Master of Compassion answered 
clear: 

" 'Tis I, be not afraid." 

Amid the battle's bloody hosts, He walked 
serene and calm. He smiled into dead faces 
and into sightless eyes, turned upward to 
the Sun. He clasped the weak, imploring 
hands of those who tottered on life's brink, 
and left their souls in peace. And when the 
Conqueror Death passed by, and pressed 
his final seal upon their hearts, He laid the 
crown and victor's palm across their silent 
breasts and whispered, "Peace." 

And now the dead in life rose up, and from. 
101 



Wu. Vmcbf(ff3)fwmA 



their cold and spectral throats wafted the 
endless cry: 

"Who calls, Who calls?" 

Again the Master of Compassion answered 
clear: 

"Brothers, oh! Brothers dear, 'twas I 
who called thee from the Dead." 




And thus this "Master of the Day" 
walked forward to the Sun, enwrapped with 
Love as with a mantle, the Morning Star 
upon His brow. 

Innumerable shining hosts enveloped Him 
as with a cloud. Behind them pressed an 
endless eager throng, all witness for the 
Truth, their glad eyes turned toward the 
Light. 

All hail! the Martyrs of the Earth! All 
hail! They drained the cup down to the 
dregs; crushed on the rack, with fire burned, 
they smiled amid the flames. 

Green were the boughs held in their 
hands, their garments dyed with blood, but 
on their faces shone a light, which made the 
sun a shadow seem. 




3/ie Vmdofcff3reamU 

"For love," they cried, "for Love we died." 

Priests, Kings, and Princes bent their once 
proud heads, their Empire gone from Earth. 

"We yield our thrones, but dust are 
they; our crowns, but worthless dross." 

And now a motley throng pressed onward 
through the Path. The poor, the maimed, 
the halt, the blind, the homeless, famished 
ones. The tortured souls, with woes untold, 
their faces bathed with tears; those who in 
prisons languished long, and those who sor- 
rowed, broken-hearted, lost; they crowded, 
Brothers all. 

Upon these sad-of-Earth, a shadow lay, 
of ignominious Fate — but now behold, in- 
stead, each brow begirt with aureole of 
shining, radiant Light. 

"Oh! give us love," they cried. " 'Tis 
only Love we ask." 

And, following after all, there came the 
tripping feet of children pure, their flower- 
like faces turned with one accord toward the 
Light. Each blew upon a reed a sound, 
compelling sweet. 

Their innocent hands were raised on high, 
their voices rang with one acclaim. 

"Oh, Lord, for all those who have sinned 
against thy little ones, have pity, Lord, for- 
give," and a murmur swelled throughout the 
throng, a shiver, as of pain; and the children 
cried once more, "For Love forgive, oh! 
Lord." 

103 



$fa Vmckfof 2)fwmA 

The ranks of this vast throng closed up 
as on they pressed. Each clasped his 
Brother's hand, until one solid mass they 
moved; forward, still onward to the Light, 
with one great, mighty sound they all to- 
gether cried: 

"Who calls! Who calls!' 

It was as if the Heavens were rent, and 
Earth fell into dust — and still each Ego- 
Soul cried out, 

"Who calls! Who calls!" 

And with the light of awful Space upon 
His brow, the Master-Saviour-God made 
answer clear: 

"Tis J who called!" 

"I called thee from the Seed, and now 
the Blossom and the Fruit are thou, the 
individual Fruit of Sacrifice and Love." 

And with the impress clear of this immortal 
sight, the Sage gave thanks to the Vendor 
of Dreams, whose presence seemed to linger 
on, whose image yet remained with photo- 
graphic clearness, stamped upon his Soul. 

"This is not all a dream," he cried, "this 
vision of a Cosmos Great. Is it but fiction 
rare — a mirage woven of the mind — and all 
contained within the tiny gland which swings 
within my brain? "Am I, the 'I-am-I/ the 
only Real?" 

With bowed head, on he walked — striving 
to solve the problem old, and wishing he 
could meet once more the Ancient Man who 
104 



smiled at him and touched him with his 
magic rod, for then perhaps he yet might 
read this riddle of the Sphinx. 

And so the solitary Wanderer roamed 
through every land; far through the span 
of many lives, leaving his footprints on the 
Earth, that haply those who followed him 
might find the Way. 

And if they saw upon the road the pres- 
sure of the little ass's hoofs, then sure were 
they to find the steps of Him who followed 
after, going the same Path. 

One afternoon, when the gold-red sun 
hung low in the turquoise sky, and all 
the world seemed hushed in Peace, the aged 
.man came walking with his little beast. 
Weary were they, but the light of the sun 
shone full upon the " Vendor of Dreams," 
until he seemed almost a shadow, filmy, 
translucent, clear. 

The shining rays fell straight into his 
eyes, so that at first he did not see the 
Golden Gate which opened wide before him, 
nor did he see a form which stood at his 
right hand. 

Her eyes were the color of green-sea 
jade, like ripe corn was her hair, sun-kissed, 
and over lips and cheeks was spread a rosy 
flush. Tall and serene she stood, while all 
around her breathed an atmosphere of pure, 
celestial joy. 

She gently touched him on the arm. 
105 



Wz Vmxlrf'<if2)rwrrti 

"Oh, Master-Magician, art thou not yet 
weary of thy journeying through the path- 
ways of the Earth?" 

He turned and looked upon her face, 
entranced. 

"Art thou not called the l World's De- 
sire V' he said, "and 'Love' ? I've needed 
sore thy magic touch." 

She smiled, but answered not. 

"How showest thou thyself to me a pil- 
grim old and poor? But a mad Vendor of 
Dreams am I. Of these I've given to beggar 
and to King, to peasant and to Prince, to 
man of Science and to Sage." 

"And what thy price, Old Man? And 
what reward was thine?" the woman asked. 

"I gave without reward," the Vendor 
said, "for far beyond all price they were, 
my Precious Dreams. In them I made the 
broken-hearted whole, and brought the sight 
to sightless eyes — the peace to tired souls, 
and this I did just for Love's sake." Then 
earnestly he looked upon her face. 

And she who was called Love, spoke with 
her golden voice. 

"Because thou didst bring sight to sight- 
less eyes, and healed the wounded hearts, 
made straight the crooked ways, and brought 
back faith and honor lost, I, who am Love, 
will lead thee now into green fields and 
pastures new. 

"Thou hast thyself earned glorious dreams 
107 



UAe Vmcbf'rf&fwnU 



beyond compare, heard whispers of the mys- 
tic, magic Love, which welds together the 
vast mantle of the stars, the worlds, and all 
that they contain, and like a magnet draws 
all souls into one flaming, fiery Center, of 
Creative Love. ,, 

"Come," and she led the " Vendor of 
Dreams" toward the Radiant Light. 

In pure, confiding faith, the little ass 
quick ambled on before into the Golden 
Gate, while the people in wonder cried: 

"Look! Look! the blue star-flowers spring 
beneath their feet." 

And so the faithful pair passed out of 
sight, led by the hand of Love, who left as 
gift to all mankind, the "wild Reality " the 
torture and the joy of Sleep and Dreams. 



\ \ I i / < 




108 



CONGRESS 



